


Saturn Academy

by levesquelsimp



Series: The Infernal Archives [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, Angst, Boarding School, Dragon shifters, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrids, M/M, Multi, Nephilim, No Demigods, No Gods, Romance, Sirens, SuperNaturals, Vampires, Werewolves, beware of fangs, beware of fire, beware of wings, dark fairies, found family (??), frazel mutual pining, inspired by shadow falls, light fairies, mutual pining in general lmao, slight worldbuilding but barely, there will be blood - Freeform, watch for profanity, witches/warlocks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24771703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levesquelsimp/pseuds/levesquelsimp
Summary: After surviving a fatal car crash, Annabeth Chase starts seeing things she isn’t supposed to. Determined that something’s wrong with her, her stepmother sends her to Saturn Academy, a boarding school for troubled teens. But upon arrival, it becomes very clear that the students of Saturn are far more than just “troubled.” She finds herself surrounded by fairies, vampires, nephilim, dragons, werewolves, witches and more… and they all seem to think she’s just like them.Here at Saturn Academy, they’re supposed to learn how to harness their powers, control their magic, and blend in with the human world. But how can Annabeth do that when she doesn’t know what she is? Caught between a brewing threat that seems to be fixated on her existence and distracted by a black-winged nephilim with green eyes, Annabeth Chase doesn’t have much room for error.How long until her time runs out?
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Calypso/Bianca di Angelo, Clarisse La Rue/Chris Rodriguez, Frederick Chase/Mrs. Chase, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Juniper/Grover Underwood, Katie Gardner/Travis Stoll, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Silena Beauregard/Charles Beckendorf
Series: The Infernal Archives [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800682
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	1. Genesis

**Author's Note:**

> omg hi! thank you for deciding this was worth the read. i hope i don't disappoint. this fic is dedicated to all of my mutuals on twitter. love yall <3
> 
> song of the chapter: someone to stay by vancouver sleep clinic

“Do you think this is a joke?” Her father’s voice carried over into the kitchen, rough with displeasure and exasperation. His words dragged through the rooms like tossed knives. “Is this _funny_ to you?”

 _It probably is,_ Annabeth thought to herself as she opened the fridge. _God knows she doesn’t take anyone seriously anymore._ The sixteen-year-old rummaged around for the can of soda that she’d smuggled in the night before. Her temples throbbed with a headache, and the angered voices that spilled from the living room only made it worse.

Her parents were at it again. Not that, of course, the argument would last much longer. Annabeth’s throat tightened, refusing to cry as the mist from the fridge flowed over her face. She mentally braced herself as best as she could, feeling her emotions fortifying, feeling her heart turn to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.

Today was the day, probably the suckiest day of her life. And that was really saying something. It seemed to her that in the past year alone, she had accumulated enough sucky days to break a world record. Between surviving that wretched car accident, acquiring a winged follower, Matt breaking up with her, and her parents announcing their divorce-- sucky barely even covered it.

“Where are my socks?” Her father’s angered growl launched into the kitchen, snaked around her ears, and curled over the half-empty carton of vanilla almond milk.

 _His socks?_ Annabeth pressed the can of Coke to her forehead, the coolness a relief to the flush of her skin. _What the hell?_

“What in the world would I do with your socks?” Her stepmother’s chilling voice responded in lacking tandem, ever so nonchalant and icy.

Annabeth glanced out towards the patio, where she had seen her stepmother half an hour earlier. There, hanging out of a potted plant, were a pair of bright white socks, freckled with soil and fertilizer. Her father’s socks.

 _Ugh._ Annabeth shoved the soda back into the fridge, shut the door, and moved to stand in the doorway. Maybe if either of them saw her standing there, they would realize that they were being ridiculous and would, for once, stop arguing. Maybe they would, for once, let her be the kid.

Her father stood in the middle of the foyer, gripping a handful of socks and underwear as he aimed a harsh sneer and a pointed finger at his soon-to-be-ex-wife. “You need psychological help,” he bit out with vengeance.

Annabeth couldn’t help but agree. She studied the woman who sat on the front room sofa, sipping from her mug of steaming tea as she watched Frederick Chase berate her. Helen didn’t even seem _phased_. But she never did.

Her stepmother did need help. So why was it that _Annabeth_ had to sit and speak with a therapist three days a week? And why was her dad-- the man who everyone swore would bend over backwards for his only daughter-- moving out today and leaving Annabeth behind?

She couldn’t blame him. Not really. Helen Chase was the resident Ice Queen. The part that hurt was that her father wasn’t _taking her with him._

Frederick spun on his heels and returned to the bedroom, not evening glancing at his daughter. Annabeth stood stiffly and stared at her stepmother, who had by now pulled out some work files to look over while she enjoyed her tea.

“You have to do something,” the blonde girl pleaded. She hated the way her tone felt against her tongue; thick and heavy with emotion. A lump had shoved its way into her throat, and speaking around it nearly hurt.

Her stepmother didn’t even look up. “Do what?”

“Change his mind. Apologize for planting his socks.” She frowned, biting her lip for a moment before pressing on. “I don’t know. _Anything_. I really don’t care, just don’t let him go.”

Helen looked at her. Her dark eyes peeled away every emotion that Annabeth felt and laid them bare on the wood flooring. Strip by strip, until the blonde teenager felt much too exposed; indecent and vulnerable. She shivered. After what felt like three days, her stepmother’s pursed lips dropped open to form the three blank words Annabeth had grown to despise. “You don’t understand.” And then, as if she’d never looked up in the first place, Helen turned back to her papers.

Right then, her father shot out of the bedroom. Suitcase in hand, he pushed right through the front door and Annabeth followed him out. The late afternoon heat was sweltering, the mid-August sun hanging in the sky as it threatened to sink beneath the tree line. School was going to be starting soon, which was the only upside to anything. School starting up again equaled less time spent at home in her mother’s company.

“Take me with you,” she frowned at him as he popped the trunk. Her father met her eyes, taking in her displeased face, and looked away. Once upon a time, he’d do anything to keep her from frowning.

Oh, how times change.

Frederick shook his head as he dumped his suitcase in the back of his car. His thick tangle of greying-golden curls moved with each sway of his neck. When he turned back to Annabeth, he had the decency to display a sliver of emotion in his brown eyes. “You don’t understand, Annabeth.”

_You don’t understand._

She felt herself scowl at that, and dug her hands into the pockets of her denim cut-offs. “Why do you two always do that?” She demanded. “Say that I don’t understand. Well then, _help me understand_. Tell me the big secret and get it over with already.”

He stared at his toes before sighing and hauled his attention towards the cloud-streaked sky. They looked like ichor-dipped feathers, smeared across the arches like meticulously applied paint.“Your mom,” he began after some time. “She needs you. Bobby needs you.”

 _“Needs me?”_ Annabeth laughed without humor. “C’mon, Dad. She barely even wants me. And Bobby doesn’t talk to anyone anymore. Neither of them _needs_ me.”

 _And neither do you_ , she realized with a jolt. Annabeth’s breath paused in her lungs as she stared at her father. He didn’t need her, he didn’t want her. That’s why he was leaving, why he was leaving her behind.

She swallowed down a fresh wave of tears and looked away. And that’s when she saw him again. Not her father, but Wing Guy, her newly-acquired semi-stalker. He was perched on the roof of her neighbor’s pickup truck across the street, his black wings folded and stationary. As always, he appeared to be fresh out of some sketchbook: a vision of long and nimble limbs, black leather, and tattoos dressing his arms, trimming the sides of his neck.

Annabeth had noticed him way back when summer had begun to encroach, the day she’d woken up from her coma after that damn car accident. Wing Guy had never spoken to her-- had never got close enough to-- and she’d never spoken to him. The first time their eyes had met he had given her a look of surprise, as if he was shocked she could see him. But that was then. By now, he was used to it. By now, he only ever stared through narrowed eyes. Ever motionless. Ever perched like an elegant crow.

But then she made the mistake of pointing him out one day, and when Helen hadn’t been able to see him, Annabeth’s already shitty life got even shittier. Her stepmother, aloof as always, assumed that at worst, the car accident had messed with her head, and at best, that she’d been making it up for attention.

Either way, that predicament, coupled with the sudden return of Annabeth’s night terrors, had landed her weekly scheduled appointments with a therapist.

And now there he was, staring at her like she was going to pull out a weapon and kill someone. Annabeth wanted to scream. Wanted to yell to her dad that Wing Guy was _right_ _there_ and that she wasn’t losing her mind, contrary to popular belief in the Chase household. At the very least, proving his existence to her parents would maybe save her from having to talk to Dr. Berry every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

 _Ha_ , as if her luck would ever turn out that well. When Annabeth turned back around, her father was already gone, leaning into the front seat of his car as he got ready to leave for good. His fraying denim jeans matched the easy paint on their front door, calm and soothing and nothing like the emotions that flurried within her.

She stared at him, felt the betrayal weighing in on her chest. When Frederick resurfaced, he took one look at her, and moved in for a hug. His arms were warm and sturdy as they caged her, and he smelt like peppered wine and the interior of a glasses case. “I’m only a phone call away, Anna.” He whispered against her blonde hair, lips skimming her ear with a final kiss.

And then her father got into his car, revved the engine, and peeled out of the driveway. Annabeth, dejected and sullen, watched the silvery sedan shrink as it hummed down the street. Then she remembered and checked to see if Wing Guy had pulled his usual disappearing act.

 _Nope_.

He was still there, this time fully seated on the roof of the truck. His long legs dangled over the driver’s side window. He was still there, staring with evident suspicion dancing across his face. When the wind blew into the street, singing through the green blades of grass and the spindles of the trees, his wavy black hair ruffled. But he did not move. He did not look away.

Then Mrs. Stone, her neighbor and the old woman who owned the truck, shuffled out of her house to pick up the mail. She smiled at Annabeth kindly, as she always did when they ran into each other, but not once did she glance in the direction of the _long_ , black-winged creature on top of her car, even when he was less than ten feet away from her.

_Weird._

So weird that when gusts of wind dashed through her hair once more, Annabeth felt an unnatural chill climbing down her spine, the same chill she had gotten when she’d heard the news about Matthew.

What the hell was going on?

**…**

An hour later-- after her spilled tears had long since dried and her heart had been beset with crumbling stone-- found Annabeth trudging down the stairs with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Her jaw was set in determination, her mind closing off the events of the day as best as it could.

She almost made it out the door without interruption, but her stepmother interceded her in the foyer, meeting her in the entryway. “Are you okay?” Helen asked. Her sleek hair hung around her shoulders, reminding her of sheets of silk.

“I’ll live,” she deadpanned. Annabeth didn’t say anything more, not feeling that she was in the correct headspace for this conversation. She had places to be, had people waiting to distract her.

Helen glanced down at her backpack and her eyebrows wrinkled before smoothing out. “Where are you going?” Her words didn’t inflect, her tone betrayed no emotion.

“You said I could spend the night with Nancy.” The biting comment forced its way past her lips before she could stop it. “Or were you too busy planting Dad’s socks to remember?” Annabeth clenched her jaw even tighter, regret pooling in the space between her heart and stomach.

Her stepmother didn’t react to the last sentence. She ignored it, as she did with everything she found irrelevant. “What are you two doing tonight?”

Annabeth shifted her weight. “Bryce Lawrence is having an end-of-summer party tonight.” She was more than happy to celebrate the event. Thanks to Matt dumping her and her parents divorcing and Matthew- _don’t think about Matthew, don’t think about Matthew, don’t think about Matthew_ \- Thanks to a series of unfortunate events that had spanned all of three months, she was finally ready to leave the summer behind. She was more than ready.

Helen raised a poised eyebrow at her. “Are his parents going to be there?”

Annabeth kept her face neutralized. “Aren’t they always? It’s their house.” Lying to her step-mother was easier than it should’ve been, but maybe that was a direct result of her witnessing Helen’s lie regarding her father’s socks.

Helen reached forward and brushed her arm, eyebrows again knitting together for a fracture of a shattered second before smoothing out. “What if you have another bad dream?”

Brushed her arm. That’s all Annabeth could get these days. No hugs, no kisses on the forehead, no _actual_ relationship solidified by any other fact than that she had married her father when Annabeth was two and had raised her since. Only brief touches that refused to linger, cold fingers drawing against her skin before pulling away and leaving her feeling even colder.

Annabeth sucked in a breath. “I warned Nancy that I might wake up screaming bloody murder. She promised she’d stake me in the heart with a crucifix and make me go back to bed.”

A flicker of a smile. “Maybe you should hide the crucifixes before you go to sleep.”

“Maybe,” Annabeth drawled. Her attention landed on the front door. For a fraction of a second, she felt guilty for ditching her stepmother on the same day her father moved out. Bobby was visiting with family in Boston and wouldn’t be back until September. Helen would be all alone.

But then she looked down at the East Asian woman in front of her, who had long since washed out the streaks of red dye from her straight, dark hair, and she reminded herself that Helen was the resident Ice Queen. She’d be fine. Nothing ever bothered her.

Nothing.

Before walking out, Annabeth peeked out the window to make sure that Wing Guy wasn’t sitting on her porch. When she found that he was nowhere in sight and thus deemed the yard free of stalkers, Annabeth rushed out the door, hoping that tonight’s party would help her forget how badly her life sucked.

Hoping that tonight’s party would erase the image of raven hair and looping tattoos over brown skin, of folded wings and long legs, of suspicious gazes and elegant perchings. Tonight, more so than ever, she _needed_ to forget.

**…**

“Here, you don’t have to drink it. Just hold it,” Nancy said as she pushed a red solo cup into her hands. “I’ll be right back.” Then, before Annabeth could mutter another word, her redheaded best friend was already gone, maneuvering effortlessly between bodies as she disappeared into the crowd.

She squeezed the sides of her cup, condensation collecting beneath her fingertips as she stood around and stared. There had to be at least forty people here, all packed into Bryce Lawrence’s living and dining rooms like sardines in a can. The air was thick with body heat and the stench of liquor, and she fought to keep her nose from wrinkling any more than it currently was. Glancing around, her grey eyes recognized most of the partygoers from school.

The doorbell rang again, as if the front door wasn’t unlocked and unyielding to any passersby, which was how Lawrence parties went. Open invite, all the time. It was a wonder that his parents continued to allow Bryce to host parties, seeing as they always ended in a mess. And just by flickering her gaze down towards the trash that was already beginning to strew the floors, tonight would be no different.

People continued to shove into the front rooms of the house. Annabeth continued to hang by the walls as she slowly edged her way out of the living room. Ten minutes later, Nancy still having not returned, the party seemed to have shifted into full swing. Someone had brought music, which now reverberated through the walls with the same gentle hum of a heartbeat.

Bodies began to sway, chatter soon was drowned out by the music, and someone was gradually dimming the lights. And despite the revelry that clung to the air like fog, mingling with the oxygen and clouding her lungs, Annabeth didn’t feel like much in a party mood. For all her desire to forget tonight, it was proving to be more difficult than she’d imagined.

She glanced down at the warming cup of liquor still in her hand. It was piss yellow, meaning it was probably beer, but she’d heard rumors that Lawrence liked to spike apple juice, so she couldn’t be sure.

While passing by, someone bumped into her. The contents of the cup in her hand splashed onto the front of her shirt, wetting the area around her belly button and dripping onto the belt loops of her shorts. Her curse slipped out automatically. _“Fuck.”_

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” the one responsible said.

Annabeth bit back a grimace and peeled the fabric clinging to her navel away from her skin. “I’ll be fine,” she answered out of half-honesty and half-courtesy. When she glanced up to meet the eyes of the offender, the need to be courteous grew exponentially. “Really,” she continued over the beat of the music. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll get you another one,” Nathan gestured to her half-empty cup, brown eyes softening in concern and regret. “I should’ve watched where I was going.”

“It’s fine.” She tried for a smile, but the knowledge that he was close friends with Matt stopped her lips from pulling upwards in the corners too far. “You really don’t have to…” Annabeth trailed off at the nervous look he sent her before tearing off to get her another drink. She sighed inwardly. “...do that.”

  
Between the daunting croon of the music and the hum of chatter increasing in volume, Annabeth’s headache from before began to threaten its return. She didn’t know how long she was standing there when the doorbell rang again, but when a few bodies shifted around and her view of the door became clear, her temples pounded. Matt had arrived, an easy grin on his face as he greeted several friends. By his side was his new girlfriend, a pretty brunette who dressed like a fashion blogger.

“Great.” The blonde murmured beneath her breath, turning around and angling her body in a way that her ex wouldn’t see her should he glance over in her direction. The back of her eyes stung, warning of another influx of tears. She spotted Nancy in the backyard, glimpsing through a window. Glad to have finally found her friend, she shot out of the living room and approached her.

Her green eyes looked up and warmed over with concern once she read the emotions on Annabeth’s face. Nancy frowned a little.“What happened?”

“Matt and his new chew toy showed up.”

“And?” Her hair seemed ethereal in the reflection of the light given off by the crystalline pool surface behind her. Nancy’s frown deepened and she pressed on. “You look beautiful. Forget about him. Or make him sorry.” A Cheshire grin. “I vote for both.”

The blonde gripped the cup in her hands, shaking her head at the suggestion.“I’d rather not stay here and watch Matt and whats-her-name grope each other against the wall,” she mumbled. _Which, given his newfound appetite, was bound to happen sooner rather than later._ The crown of her head pulsed with another ache.

"Were they already making out?" Nancy asked, glancing around as if she was looking for someone. Her green eyes were chips of faded emeralds.

Annabeth shifted her weight. “Not yet,” she admitted. The image of her ex flashed into her mind and she grimaced before continuing. “But get a drink or two in Matt and all he’ll be able to _think_ about is-” She stopped. “Just,” she fumbled for the correct words for a moment before, “ _I know him,_ okay? It’s bound to happen, believe me.”

“Chill.” Nancy hummed before pointing to the table that was pushed against the back of the house. On its surface were an arrangement of drinks and snacks, most of which Annabeth assumed to be spiked or laced in some form or another. “Mark brought margaritas. Have one and you’ll feel fine.” She glanced at Annabeth with a glittering smile. “I promise.”

Annabeth bit her lip, feeling her emotions flare up inside her before she pushed them down with a shove rough enough to make a rugby player frown in protest. How could she convey to Nancy that no amount of alcohol would make her feel fine? Her life had ‘SUCKY’ stamped all over it. 

Recognizing the purposefully blank look on her face, Nancy nudged her with her elbow. “Hey,” she began while absentmindedly waving to some random senior. “We both know all you’d have to do to get Matt back is to grab and take him upstairs or whatever.” Her eyes slid to their left corners to study the blonde beside her. “He’s still crazy about you, you know.”

Annabeth’s heart clenched. “What are you talking about?”

Cool as ever, Nancy took a sip of her drink before continuing. “I ran into him at the gym today. Right when I was about to walk away, he asked me about you.” She tucked her straightened, chin-length red hair behind her ear.

Betrayal began to thrum in Annabeth’s veins, slowly unraveling the little bits of emotional control that she had left. When she spoke, her voice cracked a little. “Did you know he was going to be here?” She studied her friend’s face, eyes roaming over the slope of her nose and the spray of freckles she always made sure to mask with makeup.

Nancy didn’t look at her, her lashes framing a set of irises that still darted around, looking for someone, _something._ “Not for sure,” she finally answered through the side of her lips. “But chill.” She nudged her again in the direction of the table, silently encouraging for her to take a drink.

_Chill._

_You don’t understand._

Annabeth froze, swallowed the lump that was forcing its way back into her throat, and turned away from her. Now, more than ever, did the realization regarding how different they’d become in the last few months hit her. Their differences were becoming more and more apparent, a fact that Annabeth wasn’t sure what to do about.

It wasn’t that she disapproved of Nancy’s lifestyle choices. Her best friend had accumulated a vehement need to party, a need to lose herself in the crowds of cheering students, a need to spend the night with any guy she chose. But rather than respect that Annabeth wasn’t one for that kind of social scene, Nancy seemed to be making more and more pushes for Annabeth to become like _her._

It wasn’t the choices that Nancy made that Annabeth couldn’t find solace with, it was the aftermath, the subtle change in ideology that _Annabeth_ had to somehow alter herself.

And she didn’t like it.

In fact, it was a major reason why Matt had dumped her. Annabeth wasn’t willing to change herself for him, for _anyone._ He found someone who was more suitable for his newly discovered tastes and appetites, and Annabeth was left to grieve quietly by herself.

Grieve. She did a lot of that now.

 _Matt._ Looking away, Annabeth recalled a conversation she’d had with Nancy back at the beginning of the year, how the ginger had insisted that changes had to be made with someone special, someone trusted. Since then, Nancy had gone that route, only for the boy in question to leave her for someone else within two weeks of the change being made. Now, Nancy had stopped talking about how it was supposed to be special.

“Look,” her best friend said, voice pulling Annabeth from her thoughts. “I know you’re worried about your parents and your brother.” Her expression softened when she turned to look at her head on. “So I’m getting you a margarita and you’re going to fucking _love it._ ”

Before she could decline, Nancy darted off towards the table, which was now surrounded by a group of people. Annabeth swiveled to follow her, but then her ears picked up the sound of an unmistakable _whoosh!_ and she froze. 

_No._

Lifting her gaze with some varying form of trepidation mixed with horror, Annabeth’s vision caught sight of Wing Guy. He hovered in the air, black wings spread and majestic as they blended with the night sky. His eyes met Annabeth’s and he stared-- so unsettling, so _poignant_ \-- before rising against the stars with a single flap. _Was he preparing to dive?_

Annabeth slammed her attention to the ground, refusing to give the _thing_ any more consideration than was due. And for a girl who prided herself on making wise choices, walking around with her eyes trained to the floor certainly wasn’t the wisest. This was proven, in a manner that reflected _all_ things bad luck, when she smacked right into a masculine chest.

This time, the remains of the liquor in her red solo splashed on her feet, dripping onto her toes. She scowled at her own foolishness. “Great. Just what I needed. Stupid, stupid…”

“Good to see you still love to rant to yourself,” a familiar voice said. “But I’m sorry anyway.”

She stiffened, recognizing Matt's voice before she did his broad shoulders or his trademark bronze cross necklace. The walls around her heart rose higher, fortifying from steel to diamond as she prepared herself for the volatile degrees of pain that seeing him would cause. She raised her gaze. “It’s okay,” Annabeth responded. Her voice sounded foreign, even to her. “Nathan’s already done it once.” She gestured to the still-drying stain on her belly. 

Annabeth forced herself not to stare at his curly black hair, how it bended over the curve of his brow like a parenthesis, or the way his deep brown eyes still reminded her of warmth and hot chocolate and all the best parts of the colder months. Betraying her mind, her eyes fell to his lips.

His lips that pulled into a frown. “So,” he drawled sarcastically. “It’s true.”

Surprise flitted through her as she tore her gaze away, placing it firmly on the contours of his face. “What’s true,” she asked.

Matt’s response was deadpan. He almost seemed hurt, as if he were in any position to feel such a thing. _The ass._ “That you hooked up with Nathan.”

Annabeth clenched her jaw, and for a moment that was as long as it was tantalizing, she considered lying to him. The stones around her heart fissured like a broken mirror, and the thought of how much it would hurt him appealed to her. She could imagine the look on his face, the corner of his mouth set deep in a frown. It was so, _so_ appealing.

But it was a game, and in light of the stupid games that she’d witnessed her parents playing with each other lately, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. As tempting as the thought was, she considered herself above the level that engaging in such a game would force her to stoop to.

So Annabeth only gave him a blank stare, one she hoped was empty enough to be scalding, before turning to leave. “I haven’t hooked up with anyone,” she said honestly. The tone of her voice left the rest of the sentence to hang in the air, clear as sunlight. _Unlike you._

But then he caught her. His fingers ghosted over her elbow, and the warmth of the touch sent oscillations of pain towards her heart, right past the walls she had tried so hard to build. Annabeth stilled, refusing to look at him, and swallowed thickly.

"I heard about your brother," he said finally, dropping her arm. His words were so quiet, too quiet, too filled with _caring_ that didn’t match up with the way he’d broken up with her. Matt continued. “And Nancy told me about your parents getting a divorce. I'm so sorry, Annabeth.”

The lump in her throat was painful now, and tears threatened to spill past her lashes any second. She was moments-- too few moments-- away from giving in to her desires, from stepping forward into his embrace and crying against his shoulder. They were best friends once. A long, long time ago. But they’d comforted each other. That was what they did. Nothing ever felt better than Matt’s arms around her, offering strength when she needed it. 

But then Annabeth saw _her_ , Matt’s new girlfriend, walking outside with two beers in hand. She knew that before the hour was done, after those drinks had been consumed, her ex boyfriend would be aiming to engage in the changes that Annabeth hadn’t been willing to make, and would probably succeed. 

She stepped further away from him. "Thanks," Annabeth muttered. Without another word, she walked away to join Nancy at last. Throwing a quick glance towards the sky, she was pleased to see that Wing Guy hadn’t decided to stick around. He was nowhere in sight.

“Here,” Nancy greeted. She pried the near-empty solo cup from Annabeth’s hand only to press what looked like a fresh margarita in its place. “Tastes like sunshine. You’ll love it.” 

The glass was frosty, and it felt unnaturally cold against the skin of her palm. Annabeth leaned over to whisper in her best friend’s ear, “Did you see that weird guy in the sky a minute ago? Dressed in all black? He was flying, had black wings.”

Nancy's eyebrows did their wild, wiggly thing. She stared at the blonde with appreciation, _misplaced_ appreciation."How much of that beer did you drink?" Her laughter filled the night air, curling and mixing with the general chatter. 

Annabeth paused and gripped the glass between her fingers a bit tighter. Was she really going crazy? Her focus flashed to the drink in her hand. She didn’t think adding alcohol to the situation was a good idea, even now, when she _really_ wanted to forget her encounter with Matt. 

“Annabeth Chase? Is that you?”

She turned, eyebrows lifting as she searched for the owner of the voice that called her name. Then, vision landing on a familiar face, Annabeth grinned. She wiggled her fingers, feeling her spirits lift just a little. “Hi, Grover.”

He chuckled as he approached her. “D’never thought I’d see you here,” Grover said. His dark skin glowed beneath the stars. When he spoke again, his signature rasta cap fell forwards against his brow, slotting his dark brown curls from sight. “Didn’t think Lawrence parties were your thing.”

She grimaced. “They’re not.” There was a roar from inside the house, followed by something that sounded a lot like smashing glass. Annabeth winced before continuing, “You wanna take a walk or something? It’s a little loud.”

He shrugged. “I was just on my way home, but I think I can spare a minute or a dozen for my favorite lab partner. You _did_ haul me through physics, so it’s the least that I can do.”

Annabeth laughed, a genuine one. Then she turned, nudging her best friend who was aimlessly conversing with a rising junior. “Hey, I’ll be right back. Grover and I are going for a walk.”

Nancy glanced at them, eyes scanning their hands for laced brownies most likely. Once she found that they weren’t, in fact, in possession of any drugs, her green eyes studied the disabled boy in front of them.“Underwood,” she finally greeted.

Grover remained undeterred from her cold tone. “Bobofit.” His light brown eyes studied her inquisitively, like she was a secret he was trying to discover, a puzzle to put together. And then, as quick as it had appeared, the odd expression was gone, replaced by his airy laugh. “I promise I’ll have your best friend back before ten thirty.”

Nancy snorted, toying with the ends of Annabeth’s blonde curls. “Keep her,” she half-joked. “‘Beth needs to live a little anyway.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “And that’s my cue to leave,” she grumbled. “Come on, Grover, I think I’m getting a headache.”

They talked for what felt like hours. The Lawrence property was on the rich side of town, meaning that they had more land than they probably knew to do with. Laughing and joking and enjoying each other's presence, they wandered away from the bright lights of the house, drawing nearer to the woods that edged on the property.

Soon enough, the vibrant hum of revelry faded away, offering leverage for the sounds of nightly nature to overtake Annabeth’s senses. A silence fell between them for the first time, but it was comfortable. She tilted her head, angling her jaw towards the sky dappled with stars-- like flakes of snow on asphalt. The formidal spires of bark and branches rose toward the arches, blotting out the small dots of light with dark leaves.

Crickets chirped, night birds hummed, grass swayed with the breeze. Beside her, Grover whistled a soft tune to himself. Every so often he would spare a tense glance at the sky, as if he were afraid of something showing up, but other than that he appeared to be at ease. His hands clutched the grips on his crutches, but his steps never faltered. Not that Annabeth was surprised. Grover Underwood, if anything, was most at peace amongst grass and roots and fields and wildlife.

Annabeth, on the other hand… not so much.

“Ow!” She hissed as her sandals folded beneath the soles of her feet, causing her to trip. Her bare skin skidded against a small thicket of thorns poking up from the ground, pricking the front and underside of her toes. 

Grover stilled at her outcry. He reached out to steady her. “Are you okay?” His eyes lowered to the rope of thorns curling over the grass, and he frowned in tandem.

Annabeth nodded absentmindedly. “I’ll be fine,” she promised. She tried not to think about the small drops of blood that were beginning to pool around her toes. “I just tripped over my shoes. Not the wisest choice to come out here while wearing them.”

He didn’t respond.

Her grey eyes bore into him. “...Grover?”

Silence.

His attention was aimed at the ground, characterized by a stare so intense Annabeth wouldn’t be surprised if the undergrowth burst into flames. She followed his line of sight, and with a flicker of shock and confusion, she noticed that the thorns were… _going away?_

It was a peculiar sight, one that couldn’t be explained easily. They moved in the same manner of fashion that a snake would, slithering along the ground with the fluidity of spilled wine or water. The thorns seemingly recoiled, and the longer that Grover stared, the faster they went.

“Am I drunk?” Annabeth wondered aloud. She knew the answer, knew that not a single drop of liquor had touched her tongue since she’d arrived in Bryce’s living room. But she had no other explanation. “Are there hallucinogens in the trees or something?” She glanced at her friend. “You… _do_ see that, right?”

Grover looked to her, his light brown eyes taking on that same odd look they had had when he’d stared at Nancy. “What are you talking about?”

Before she could respond, Annabeth’s heart lurched at the easily recognizable sound of wings flapping. Her breath caught, and she reached out to grip her friend’s arm, not registering his wince at the strength of her fingers enclosing around his skin. Annabeth pointed to the treeline, pointed to the black silhouette hovering between the branches before falling into a regular perch.

“Do you fucking _see that_ ?” She cried, her voice hysterical. Annabeth’s lungs couldn’t get enough oxygen and she shook her head. “I’m not crazy. I’m _not_ crazy. Grover, do you see that? That… _guy with wings._ ”

He swallowed thickly. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Annabeth. Are you okay?”

She turned to look at him, taking in his expression. Grover refused to look her in the face. That was the thing about him. He was a horrible liar. _A horrible one._ Her heart dropped and she frowned. “I know you can see him, Grover. _I know you can._ ”

He shook his head. “Annabeth, did you have too much to drink?” His gaze lowered to the warming martini glass in her hands. “How many of those did you have?”

She didn’t respond.

And that’s when she noticed that the wind had stopped blowing, that the crickets were no longer chirping. The forest was entirely silent, as if it was holding its breath. Her skin crawled and she turned to look at the winged creature looming in the trees again. She couldn’t pinpoint him exactly, but she could faintly make out the outline of his wings-- folded, motionless, poignant.

“C’mon, let’s go back,” Grover offered. “I was supposed to head home almost an hour ago, and Nancy’ll probably be looking for you.”

She didn’t respond, but allowed him to lead them back towards the Lawrence house. When Annabeth turned her back, the hairs on her neck stood on end, and she could _feel_ Wing Guy staring at her, staring at _Grover._

Again, they fell into silence on the way back. But this time, the lack of communication was punctuated with an air of tensity that Annabeth couldn’t shake. Grover seemed to be in a hurry, the muscles in his arms tightened as he moved at a pace she could barely keep up with. When they finally reached Bryce’s backyard, it was as if they had never left. The party was still in full swing, and several students had opted for a little night swimming.

Grover paused, whipping out his phone. “I’ll see you later, Annabeth,” he murmured. He didn’t even look at her, his attention pinned onto the bright screen in front of him.

She didn’t mean to overstep her boundaries, but her eyes lowered to his phone. His text messages were open, and the sole words she managed to catch were enough to jostle her. _Subject. Unsuspecting. Move quickly._

“Grover?” Her voice came out weaker than she would’ve liked, but never had she been so confused. Annabeth _knew_ that he had been able to see Wing Guy, she _knew_ that he had something to do with the thorns rolling away like a serpentine predator. What she couldn’t understand was _why_ she had been able to see that, _why_ he was pretending otherwise.

He looked at her again, this time the faintest twinge of regret swirling in the light browns of his irises. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Take care, Annabeth. I’ll see you soon.”

And before she could respond, he was hobbling away, and a menagerie of lights erupted at the front of the house, complete with sirens. Around her, partygoers scattered at the arrival of the police, but all she could do was stare at the disabled boy who had more surety in his gait than anyone she’d ever known.

Five minutes later, when three Virginia cops walked into the backyard and had everyone line up at the back gate, Annabeth still had the same untouched margarita clutched in her hands. Her mind was racing, her heart was barren, and her skin felt numb.

"Come on, kids," one of the cops said. "The sooner we move you to the precinct, the sooner we can get your parents to come get you." 

The words jolted through her, and that was when Annabeth knew for certain that ‘SUCKY’ was nowhere near enough to describe the state of her life. Not even close.

**…**

“Where’s Dad?” The words tumbled past her lips without interruption, as if they were always meant to be. And once Annabeth caught sight of her mother stepping into the room at the police station, she found that stopping them probably would’ve been impossible. “I called Dad.”

Helen’s dark eyes tightened in disapproval as she sank into the seat across from her. “He called me,” she stated evenly. “He was busy.”

 _I’m a phone call away,_ he’d said. He’d told Annabeth that not even twelve hours beforehand. Had that been a lie?

Emotion clenched its fist around her heart, and she found herself shaking her head. “I wanted Dad,” Annabeth insisted. No, she _needed_ him. She needed him to keep his promise, to reassure her that he really wasn’t leaving her behind as if she meant nothing.

Her stepmother ignored the impassioned sentiment that lighted the contours of her face. When she spoke, her words were flooded with disappointment and ice. “You don’t get what you want, Annabeth. Especially not when,” she paused to pinch her nose, “My _god.”_ Helen stilled for a moment before heaving a sigh. “How could you do this?”

Annabeth fought the urge to scoff. “I didn’t _do_ anything,” she said. “Didn’t they tell you? I walked a straight line. Touched my nose and even said the alphabet backward. _I didn’t do anything.”_

“They found _marijuana_ there,” her stepmother snapped accusingly. Her bone straight hair moved when she moved, flicking forwards like a rattlesnake’s tail.

Annabeth couldn’t swallow down her scoff this time. “I wasn’t _smoking_ anything either.” She folded her arms over her chest defiantly, staring her stepmother down. “I already told you-- _I didn’t do anything._ ”

But it appeared that Helen was on a mission to incriminate her of something, of _anything._ In hindsight, it appeared that she was searching desperately for an excuse. She hummed before saying, “But do you know what they _didn’t_ find there, Annabeth?” A manicured finger pointed accusingly at her. “ _Parents._ You lied to me.”

The irony pressed down on Annabeth’s chest with a weight too much to bear. She didn’t bother holding back. “Maybe I was just following _your_ example,” she retorted. 

“What does that mean?” 

She smirked wryly. “You told my dad that you didn’t know what happened to his socks. But you stuck them in the flower pots on the patio. _You lied_ , but I guess it's only a problem when _I_ do it, huh?” Bitterness had long since seeped into Annabeth’s tone, still unable to reconcile the fact that her father wasn’t there. Why hadn’t he come? Why had he left her with a woman unable to express emotions healthily?

Guilt deluged the deep brown of Helen’s eyes and she shook her head. With what _had_ to be practiced resignation, the woman whispered to herself, “Dr. Barry was right.”

Annabeth frowned. “What does my therapist have to do with anything?” A cold feeling washed over her and Annabeth leaned forward. “Don’t tell me you called her. Oh my god, Mom, don’t tell me you _brought her here_ \--”

“No,” Helen held up a hand, a faint shiver of disgust visibly rolling over her at the sight of the blonde’s vehemence. “No, she’s not here. But it’s not just about tonight.” She inhaled heavily before exhaling with weight. “I can’t do this alone. Not now. It’s too much.” 

“Do what alone?” Annabeth asked, and her stomach slowly began to fill with dread. “What’s too much?”

“I’m sending you to boarding school.”

“What?” Annabeth held her arms tighter against her chest, caging herself. “What are you talking about?” She shook her head. “No. _No._ I’m _not_ going to some damn boarding school. Are you crazy?”

“Don’t use that word with me,” Helen said. She scowled briefly before smoothing out the emotion lines on her face. “And it’s not about what you want, Annabeth.” She motioned for her to walk out the door. “It’s about what you _need._ It’s a school for children with… problems.” 

Annabeth didn’t budge. “ _Problems?_ I don’t have any problems.” Her lips tucked into a grimace at the face her stepmother was aiming at her.

“How can you say that honestly, Annabeth?” Helen narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t have any _problems_ , then why am I at a police station past midnight picking up my daughter who’s almost seventeen?”

Annabeth swallowed the lump in her throat. “If you would just _listen_ -”

Helen pressed on, blinks of emotion crawling across her face before vanishing. “If you don’t have any problems, then _why_ do I have to drive you to sessions with Dr. Barry for those… _things_ you hallucinate?” She stepped forward. “ _Why_ do I have to keep waking up in the middle of the night to you screaming like a banshee?”

The blonde girl stood, her throat burning. “None of those are my fault!” She cried out, her voice hoarse. This was becoming too much. Too much. Where was her dad? She needed her dad. “You _know_ that none of those are-”

Her stepmother interlaced her fingers and tightened the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “You’re right,” Helen responded with tranquility. “They’re not your fault.” She exhaled through her nostrils before, “They’re your _problems_ , and with your father skipping out, I don’t believe I’m in any way qualified to help you through them. It’s too much.”

Hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “So you’re sending me _away_ ?” Annabeth’s voice cracked and she schooled her expression as best as she could. “Can you even _afford_ a boarding school tuition? That’s just-”

Helen pursed her lips. “Dr. Barry has found a sponsor willing to cover the full cost. Books, uniforms, room and board… we don’t have to pay a penny.”

Annabeth felt her eyes narrow and she took a step back when the realization dawned on her. “You… you’ve been planning this.” The betrayal was evident in the weakened timbre of her voice, but her stepmother gave no hint of acknowledging it. “You have it _all_ figured out.”

“Dr. Barry mentioned the school a few months ago, after she’d had a few sessions with you. She was the one who got in contact with the anonymous sponsor, but I held back on accepting simply because I assumed you would get better.” An edge crept into her expression. “I assumed that it was all just a phase.”

She clenched her jaw. “You thought that me _grieving_ was just a phase?”

“That’s irrelevant, Annabeth. The _point is_ that I can no longer hold off on it. I’m contacting Dr. Barry first thing in the morning. You’re going to this school, whether you like it or not, and you will _heal_ from whatever problems you’re suffering from right now.” Helen raised a sole eyebrow at the look of protest forming on the teenager’s face. “This isn’t up for debate. Now,” she shouldered her purse once more and gestured to the door. “We’ve been in this room for too long. Get in the car, and as soon as we get home, you need to start packing. School starts in less than two weeks.”

 _I’m not going,_ Annabeth told herself as they walked out of the police station. She repeated it again and again until it became a mantra, something to fixate on as she slowly reeled from the news. _Boarding school? No. Dad would never allow it._

He simply wouldn’t allow her stepmother to send her off to a school filled with… kids with problems. He wouldn’t. _He wouldn’t._

But then, she’d reminded herself, he had said that he was only a phone call away, and look at how _that_ had turned out.

Annabeth swallowed thickly, and for the first time, she began to doubt.

_Would he?_


	2. Vicis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to daisy <3 i love you :)
> 
> disclaimer: i don't own anything you recognize. enjoy!

The following week, on an overcast Monday morning three days after the party, found Annabeth on a train platform. Within her grasp did she clutch the strap of her backpack, the only carry-on she deemed necessary. Behind her, Helen looked over the travel route a few more times. The train wasn't set to depart for another thirty minutes, but Chases always found themselves early to any and all parties.

Annabeth stared at the train in front of her, swallowing the lump in her throat. Her mother was really doing it, she was really sending her away. And her father- Frederick, the man who had promised her he would never leave- was _allowing it._

She couldn't believe she was here.

Annabeth, who'd never drunk more than a single collective bottle of beer in all her years of existence, who'd never smoked, who'd never gotten in any trouble with authority, was being shipped off to some reform school in upstate New York.

Helen joined her, her curiosity satiated once more. The cold woman lightly touched Annabeth's arm. "I think you should get on now. Try to get a good seat."

The blonde girl's chest hollowed. Could her stepmother get rid of her any faster? She clenched her jaw, and pulled away from the touch. Anger thrummed in her veins, heating her from the inside out. Annabeth didn't know how to act anymore. What even _was_ this?

Helen didn't fail to notice the rejection, but her tone didn't acknowledge it. "I'm sorry, Annabeth," she stated evenly. There was no apologetic inflection in her words, which made it all the worse. " _Really,_ I am. But this was the only way-"

She winced before schooling her expression. "You didn't even let me say _goodbye._ " Nancy's freckled, smiling face flashed into her mind's eye, followed by Matt, followed by Grover. None of them knew she was leaving, that she wouldn't be returning to their local high school in the fall. _No._ Instead, Annabeth was to be surrounded by delinquents, three states away from home.

"I didn't think you would want anyone to know about the school you're attending."

"As if I had a _choice_." Annabeth couldn't keep from biting out. She frowned to herself, looking away so Helen wouldn't see the well of tears coalescing at the precipices of her lashes. She had begged, she had pleaded, she had forsaken her pride and _cried_ , but nothing worked. Not sound logic, not emotion. Nothing ever worked when dealing with the Ice Queen.

She was going to boarding school. An all-expense-paid trip by the thanks of an anonymous benefactor. She was leaving everything she had ever known, was being thrust into an environment she had no say in accepting.

"Goodbye, Annabeth." Helen whispered to her. As of now, they were the only two people on the platform, a rare sight. "I'll see you on visitation weekend."

Annabeth didn't offer a syllable in return. All she wanted was to be alone, wanted to drown herself in music until she couldn't think and her surroundings would melt away and she would _truly_ be alone. Refusing to glance at her stepmother, she stiffened her back, gripped the strap of her bag a little tighter, and boarded the train. She reached her seat by the instruction of her ticket- another facet paid for by her sponsor. First class wasn't cheap, especially on an eight-hour-long train ride.

Annabeth entered the car and paused by the door. There were already a handful of passengers inside, all of whom looked up to stare at her. Their conversations tittered over the edge of silence, tumbling into the quiet abyss, and their eyes pierced her.

Clustered around a table towards the back of the car was a small party of people, all dressed in varying shades of browns and reds and golds. They shared the same deep brown hair and dark eyes, but when Annabeth met the gaze of a little boy who couldn't be older than eleven, she swore his eyes flickered gold for a moment. The girl beside him, with a burgundy bandana dressing her hair, flashed her a grin, but something about it made Annabeth feel uneasy, like she was staring a predator in the face and didn't know it yet. The air grew uncomfortably warm, so she looked away.

Seated on the other side of the car were two blond boys and a girl with long, wavy brown hair. The boys appeared to be twins, and the girl was squished between them. By their feet, in the aisle, was the largest and thickest book Annabeth had ever seen. It was leather-bound, and the pages were yellow-tipped. The three passengers had misty black symbols covering their hands, and when they stared at Annabeth, she felt that her heart was slowly reducing to peels of blood and warmth. Her chest began to hurt.

She looked away.

No one spoke, and the hairs on her arm rose to attention. A greyish hue overtook the train car, dotting her vision, and reminding Annabeth of fog. More than uncomfortable, she moved to take her place, and it wasn't until she took the first step did the gentle chatter of mindless conversation resume full volume. Annabeth released a weighted sigh as she sank into her seat of choice, at a table towards the middle of the car.

_What the hell was going on?_

Annabeth pressed herself against the window and shoved her backpack into the aisle seat beside her. She hoped that the message of her wanting to be left alone would be made clear well enough by her bag's placement.

She plugged her earbuds into her phone and set her music to shuffle. Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Annabeth pressed her forehead into the cool glass of the window and fluttered her eyes closed. If the train car was silent again, she didn't take any notice. She sighed again and again, achieving the control she sought, and once she deemed herself ready, she pulled out the cursed brochure to look over it one more time.

 _SATURN ACADEMY FOR THE TROUBLED GIFTED_ was scrawled across the front in pristine, white letters. Behind it sat the image of a majestic building of Victorian architecture. If there was anything Annabeth could appreciate about her newfound object of hatred, it was the architecture. Whoever had built Saturn Academy had built it to last, a fact she surmised just by studying the photo alone.

She flipped through the brochure, flipped through the countless depictions of _troubled_ yet _gifted_ delinquents all swathed in their navy uniforms and poised smiles. She glanced over the brief history of the school, how the founder had named it for Saturn's rings, how the rings were separate from the planet but didn't detract from its beauty, how Saturn Academy students were the same, how their gifts and troubles set them apart from the world but didn't detract from the world's beauty, from the world's function.

Pausing her music, Annabeth forced down a snort at it all. In her opinion, it was all an overly elaborate way to address that the students attending _were_ , in fact, troublemakers. _Privileged_ troublemakers. Troublemakers with rich parents who didn't have to go to juvie or whatever else reform environment that was fitting. Annabeth didn't belong there, didn't belong with the navy uniforms and Victorian architecture and state-of-the-art grounds.

She looked over the brochure some more, glancing at the code of conduct and all the amenities that the boarding school boasted of. As she did so, more passengers boarded the train and entered the car, and just as before, they would all stop to stare at her for a few moments before pressing on. Finally having enough of it all when she reached the page about dorms and mealtimes, Annabeth tossed the brochure on the table and settled back in her seat. She folded her arms over her chest, pressed the crown of her head into the backrest, and shut her eyes. She heard the train car opening again, so to busy herself from the distraction of their stares, she reopened the brochure and leaned over the table.

The scent of saltwater wafted into her nose and she stiffened. Through the corner of her eyes, she noticed about six pairs of legs, all of which had stopped at her table. Right when Annabeth was about to look up and tell them off, a smooth voice interrupted her.

"Is this seat taken?"

Her chin snapped upwards, and her attention landed on what had to be the prettiest girl she had ever seen. Annabeth's breath caught in her throat, her vision sliding over the girl's tawny skin and deep hair that was a burnished shade half-melted between burnt maroon and chestnut. Her eyes were deep as well, turning over from dark brown to green to hazel.

Behind her stood four other girls, dressed in designer clothing and matching accessories. All of them, excluding one with black hair and blue eyes, stared at her with frowns on their faces.

"Slumming it, are we?" An East Asian girl hissed, never removing her black eyes from Annabeth. She wore a leather miniskirt and a flowy white blouse, her silken dark hair curtaining the right side slope of her elegant neck.

"Stop it, D," the black-haired girl said kindly. She looked away from Annabeth and began to tug at the East Asian girl. "Come on, I see some empty seats across the aisle where Charlie's sitting. You're just hungry."

"She's always hungry," a willowy girl with braided caramel hair chided. Her almond-shaped eyes roved over Annabeth and the first girl with evident disapproval, and for a second so quick Annabeth thought she imagined it, her pupils menacingly thinned into slits. But then they rounded out once more and she moved away nonetheless.

The four girls walked away gracefully, and with them left the scent of saltwater.

Annabeth remained stiff, craning her neck to watch them greet some of the other passengers. The kind one with black hair stopped at the table and tossed her arms around the neck of a burly boy with dark skin and curly brown-black hair. _Charlie,_ Annabeth guessed. The East Asian girl, _D_ , noticed Annabeth staring and sent her a look so predatorial that the blonde girl spun around in her seat.

There was an awkward cough, and Annabeth refocused on the pretty girl from before. She was still standing by the opposite seat across the table, clutching her backpack strap as she fidgeted slightly.

Annabeth felt her cheeks warm. "Um," she motioned towards the seat vaguely. "You can sit, I guess. No one's sitting there. I'm by myself-" she tripped over her words, feeling far more tongue-tied than she normally would be when dealing with strangers. "I mean, yes, it's free. _No,_ it isn't taken-"

The pretty girl laughed, a scratchy, throaty sound that somehow still had an air of melody that made Annabeth lean forward subconsciously. "Thanks," she grinned, the smile white and blinding. She sank into the window seat across from Annabeth and tossed her bag at her feet. "I'm Piper," she introduced herself. "What's your name?"

Annabeth tried not to focus too hard on the choppy state of the girl's hair- how it hung around her upper biceps unevenly- and nodded in acknowledgment, mildly taking note that she didn't hold out her hand to shake. "Annabeth," she responded.

Piper nodded. "Well, Annabeth," she tugged on the sleeves of her oversized denim jacket while her perfect eyebrows arched perfectly. "I'm guessing this is your first year at Saturn Academy?"

She froze for a moment, heart beating against her rib cage in pure panic before she noticed the brochure clutched between her fingers. _You idiot,_ Annabeth chided herself. The blonde girl exhaled lightly before nodding. "Yeah," she answered lamely. "You?"

The girl across from her shook her head. "I'm starting my second year this semester." Her lips split into another grin and she leaned forward slightly, voice smooth like silk and velvet. "Where are you from?"

Despite the easiness of the question, Annabeth still found herself more than willing to comply, more than willing to answer Piper, more than willing to please her. Without missing a beat, she said, "I was born in Richmond, but my family moved here to Roanoke to be closer to rehab."

Confusion flitted across Piper's face, and the soothing quality of her voice vanished. "Rehab?"

Annabeth clenched her mouth shut.

Taking the hint, Piper nodded and moved away from what clearly was a sore topic- _don't think about Matthew, don't think about Matthew, don't think about Matthew_ \- grinning brightly once more. "So, are you excited about a new school?"

Annabeth snorted in response, unable to keep the sound down. "I don't really have much to be excited about, sorry."

Piper arched an eyebrow, curiosity welling in her brown eyes. "Oh?"

The blonde teenager weighed her options before speaking. "It's a reform school," Annabeth finally deadpanned. Her tone was laden with the bitterness that laced her chest, that ensnared her heart and punctuated her lungs. When she spoke again, there was an honesty underlying her words that hadn't been there beforehand. "I don't really see why I would be excited."

An inkling of something that heavily resembled realization and recognition crawled across Piper's face, and she glanced down at the brochure in Annabeth's hands again. This time, when she looked back up, her nonchalance seemed misplaced, but she carried the conversation towards new directions.

They talked aimlessly for a long time, long enough for the train to depart, long enough for the commencement of the journey on the railroad to hell. The car filled, and with each boarding passenger came the inevitable stares that would be thrown in Annabeth's direction, but Piper distracted her by asking about her favorite movie genres, her taste in music, her taste in food. They talked about hobbies and whatnot, and Annabeth learned a thing or two. One of which being that Piper loved puns. It was an art, really; how the brunette was able to turn any and all conversation topics on its head with a little play on words.

During a lull in conversation, Piper resumed focus on the Saturn Academy brochure. "You wanna know how the school got its name?"

Annabeth glanced down at the folded, glossy pages in her hand. "I already read about it." She said. "The analogy for Saturn's rings and the students' gifts and troubles, right?" Her grey eyes found Piper's hazel ones and she shrugged. "I thought it was kind of boring."

As if she was looking for that response, Piper leaned in. "Annabeth," she drawled. Her body language was conspiratorial, and in the colors of her irises flashed a glint that seemed almost… _feral._ Her tone was velvety again. "You know that's not the _real_ story, right?"

Annabeth stiffened but found herself leaning in nonetheless. "What… are you talking about?"

Piper grinned, and when she did, her teeth seemed far sharper than normal. Her canines appeared to be extended, and she licked her lips. Her choppy hair brushed over the tabletop. "How Saturn Academy got its name. It's got nothing to do with its rings."

Annabeth didn't respond.

Piper took that as a cue to continue. "You know how you can see Saturn in the night sky during some months?"

"July to December, usually." Annabeth nodded. "What about it?"

Piper smirked, a look that set an uneasy twitch in the depths of Annabeth's gut. She lowered her voice once more. "Well, _I_ heard that a long time ago, back before humans even discovered _fire_ , gods used to roam the earth. And when Saturn was visible in the night sky, the gods would curse humans who angered them. The humans… _shifted._ They changed."

Annabeth rolled her eyes and leaned away. "What are you even going on about?"

"Listen to me," Piper urged.

Annabeth listened. Why did she listen?

Piper continued, smirk widening at her compliance. "Some of them were cursed to drink blood, others became half-fish mongrels, others were chained to the moon and became beasts in the night." She leaned forward. "Some had their humanity stripped away, became monsters covered in scales that breathed fire and hoarded wealth. Others grew wings but were never allowed freedom. And even some were cursed with magic-"

Before she could continue, Piper was interrupted by another smooth voice, this one masculine and accented with a Southern drawl. "You're not going on about that nonsense again are you, Piper?"

Annabeth turned away from the girl in front of her to look up at the tall boy who'd approached them. She recognized him from before, when he had entered the train car with a few other boys. His blond hair was sandy and stylistically messy, framing a hard-set jaw and a pair of crystalline sky blue eyes. His skin was beige and flawless, like a marble statue in a museum. The boy donned a simple grey shirt and dark jeans, his large hands clutching two styrofoam cups with straws punched into the tops. He sipped at one of them, and the liquid that rose in the straw was a deep purple-red, the same shade as cranberry-grape juice.

Piper leaned away from Annabeth to look up at the boy. Her dark lashes batted and she grinned sweetly, her voice losing the edge of softness that it had taken on with Annabeth. "Me? Nonsense?" She placed a hand on her chest with a flair of drama. " _Luca_ , honey, is the _sun_ getting to you?"

He laughed loudly at that, setting off confusion in Annabeth's stomach. She glanced out the window, her eyes glazing over the greyish blur of the overcast sky. Drizzling raindrops slotted against the window. But when she turned back to the two of them, they had moved on without interruption.

"I heard you were in Miami all summer with your dad," He was continuing in that Southern voice of his. "How was it?"

Piper pressed her elbows into the table before setting her chin atop her loosely clenched fists. "It was alright. Same old, same old, I guess. How was New Orleans?"

 _New Orleans,_ Annabeth nodded inwardly as she studied the blond boy. _That explains the accent._

He shrugged, taking in another sip from his cup. "Still the same as always. No other city can compare."

Piper snorted. "Don't let Thalia hear you say that."

He winced, as if remembering a painful memory. "I know. I mentioned once that I'd rather live in Seattle than in New York City and she went _off._ Never makin' that mistake again."

Piper nodded and gestured to the untouched white foam cup in his hands. "Not to be conceited, but I'm assuming that's for me?"

His blue eyes sparkled when he nodded. "Yeah, we all swung by Pire's on our way here and Chris mentioned that we'd probably see you on the train." He handed her the cup. "They were all out of your usual, so I got you mine. Tell me if you hate it."

Piper took the cup and sipped it. The dark red liquid stained her lips before she licked it off and she smacked a little while cocking her head to the side. Swallowing it down and studying the cup, swishing it, she nodded. "It'll do." She grinned up at him again. "Thanks, Luca."

"Don't worry about it," he answered well-naturedly. Then, finally turning to Annabeth, he said, "So, care to introduce me to your… friend?"

Annabeth stared up at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes bore into hers, and his face took on an air of curiosity as he studied her. His head slightly cocked to the side and he narrowed his eyes. The longer he stared, the more Annabeth was under the impression that she was supposed to _run_. But the annoyance that began to bubble within her pushed her unnatural fear away, and she found herself holding his gaze.

"Oh!" Piper swallowed down another sip, as if just remembering that Annabeth was there. She gestured for him to sit down next to her, which he obliged. "Luca, this is Annabeth. She's new." Piper then motioned to the blonde girl. "Annabeth, this is Luke Castellan. He's beginning his…" she faltered and Luke sent her an almost imperceptible nod. "He's almost ready to graduate."

 _Okay,_ Annabeth frowned to herself. _That was weird._

Luke grinned at her. Just like Piper's, his teeth were far sharper than what would be deemed normal by a dentist, but somehow _his_ seemed more menacing. If it weren't for the easy smile on his face, Annabeth would've been put off.

But she wasn’t. The fact of the matter was that something about him told her not everything was what it seemed. Being raised by Helen meant one had to be fluent in the art of body language, or else live in confusion, and Luke’s body language was, in all senses of the word, _disarming._ From the gentle, climbing column of his neck, to the subtle bulge of his Adam’s apple, followed by his smile that was as crooked as his eyebrows were upturned, he emanated relaxation and charm.

Maybe it was because of this, despite her better nature, that Annabeth couldn't find it within herself to lean back when he shuffled forward, pressing his folded fists into the table. Luke's smile widened and the cleft of his eyebrow notched ever higher. "So," he drawled smoothly. His voice reminded her a lot like milk chocolate- smooth and rich. "A first year, huh?"

She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to say, and nodded. _Was it really that obvious?_

Luke studied her for a moment before glancing at Piper, who had taken to staring at the blur of clouds outside the window while sipping at her dark drink. "Man," he began. The tone of the blond's voice hinted at mischief, and he spoke a bit louder than necessary. "I remember _my_ first year at Saturn." Nostalgia dribbled off the edge of his tongue, slipping between his lips and coiling over the table and clouding the air until he got the reaction he so clearly desired.

Piper tore her gaze away from the sky with a thin frown and she rolled her eyes. "Do you ever stop talking about that story?" Despite her language, her face gave no truth to any animosity.

Annabeth felt her eyebrows twitch, but said nothing, content (for now) to simply watch them interact. There was something in the way that Piper looked at Luke, how laughter swirled along the edges of her irises like foam did on the shores of a beach. There was something in the way he leaned towards her, how his tattooed fingers would poke into the material of her denim jacket along her arms, her elbows, her sides.

Then, with a strike of emotion that fizzled her blood iron-hot, it all clicked. Annabeth swallowed thickly and turned her gaze away at the realization. Her chest ached at the awareness that Luke and Piper behaved like siblings, not unlike how she herself used to be with Bobby and M- _don't think about him, don't think about him._

"We're not boring you, are we?" The familiar raspy-melodic voice broke through the small slivers between Annabeth's pressing thoughts and the blonde teenager rooted herself back to reality, away from the cagings of her own mind.

Annabeth's lips flickered upwards into a tiny smile- it was hard not to do such a thing when a girl like Piper was giving her a look like that- and shook her head. "No, I was just thinking. Don't worry about it."

She nodded in response and sipped some more at her drink. Beads of it dotted her lower lip, and when Piper's tongue darted out to swipe it away, Annabeth swore that she saw a glimpse of very, _very_ sharp canines. Fangs, almost.

 _Don't be daft,_ she chided herself.

"And are you _really_ tryin' to tell me that _I_ should stop telling stories?" Luke was saying. He flicked Piper on the forehead, which she scowled vehemently at. A sip at his drink, a lick of his lips, and then, "At least _my_ story's true."

Piper rolled her eyes. "Please," she said, sarcasm coating each syllable with an audible gloss. "I didn't realize you were alive back then and witnessed it all. _Forgive me_."

He laughed. "I may be old, _Pipsqueak_ ," Luke responded with extra emphasis on the nickname, Southern accent humming in his chest as she scowled and aimed a smack at his shoulder. His words shook as he outmaneuvered her hand and laughed again. "But I'm not _that_ old."

"You've been around for a century and a half," Piper exaggerated. Her tight expression loosened as she tugged her hand from his grip and shook her head. "Most people would call that ancient."

They continued to banter back and forth, and Annabeth suddenly grew very tired of watching them. The sight of their familiarity gradually widened the cavity in her own chest and filled it with an ache that seemingly hadn't left her in months. Her vision darted to the closed flaps of the brochure, and then to the worn book sticking out of the pocket of her backpack. Maybe if she pulled it out, they would leave her alone.

Maybe...

Piper hummed then, dashing her wishes like sand treasures in the wind. Her deep hair slid over her shoulder as she cocked her head to the side. "Oh!" She turned to Annabeth after swallowing another gulp of her drink, her eyes bright. "You must be so confused about everything."

The blonde faltered at her rapid shift in attention. Luke appeared to be unphased, as if it was a common occurrence. "I-" Annabeth stuck her tongue in her cheek. The outline of her book swam in her peripherals, staring at her boldly. "I mean…"

Piper smiled warmly. "Luca and I-"

"-For the _last time_ , Piper, _please_ stop callin' me that-"

"-Can give you some tips," she continued without missing a beat, although her smirk was not as translucent as it had been just moments before. Piper's eyes studied Annabeth's, and her voice smoothened out once more, inclining her to listen. "Advice is always helpful, y'know?"

"Ignore her," Luke said suddenly. His words were more convincing than her's. He gave Piper a strange look, a quelling one. Once he realized Annabeth's attention had been fixed on him, the Southern boy shook his head. "Pipes does nothing but talk nonsense."

" _Wow._ Okay, rude." She chuckled at him. "You're no fun."

"So I've heard," his response was demure. "Ethan tells me all the time."

Annabeth sighed inwardly. She guessed that the sooner she got them to speak of whatever they wished to speak of, the sooner they would leave her alone and she could drown herself in music and dissolve her senses in the world caged between the pages of her favored book. But in order to do that, she would have to get them back on track.

Leaning back into her seat and gesturing between them, the blonde tried to school her expression as well as she could, disallowing any slivers of her annoyance from seeping into her words. "You were going to tell me some tips?"

Outside, rain began to pelt harder against the windows, against the roof of the train. The sounds of beating water droplets formed a steady rhythm that she focused on. As if he was surprised at her response, Luke studied her again, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Piper perked up immediately, animation pooling across the dips and planes of her facial features. Her shoulders lined gracefully and she settled her chin atop her hands. "Well, what are you curious about?"

Annabeth glanced at the brochure. Saturn Academy for the _Troubled_ Gifted. Honesty tugged at the base of her throat, and her following words reflected that. "Who should I stay away from?"

"The werewolves," the girl across from her said automatically. "A lot of them are _really_ mean people."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Excuse me?"

The table fell silent.

It was then that Annabeth decided that she could entertain this no further. Unbeknownst to her as she reached for her book, Luke Castellan slowly turned his head, giving Piper the longest look coupled with the briefest glare in history. Once Annabeth had resurfaced, said girl looked away, away from Luke's hardened expression, away from the blonde's concerned face, away from the window. Piper stared down the aisle and sipped at her drink, refusing to look at anyone else.

"Like I said," Luke said finally, turning to Annabeth with a thin smile. "Ignore her."

"Werewolves." Pursed lips, fingers clutching the spine of her book, and the aching need to plug her ears with music and go to sleep. Annabeth lifted an eyebrow yet again.

"A nickname we came up with, for the kids we don't necessarily like," Luke responded smoothly. "There was a rumor a few years back that Sherman- you'll meet him soon enough, I guess- was descended from wolves, and it sort of stuck."

"Right," Annabeth nodded.

_Weirdos. Troubled freaks and weirdos._

But perhaps the gods had decided to dote on her today, for the first time since the year had begun, because there was a loud round of laughter from the back of the train car. A boy who Annabeth recognized as a member of the group Luke had boarded with walked up to the table, his curly brown hair light as the mirth dancing in his green eyes. Breathless and clearly amused, he gestured to the two passengers who sat across from her.

"Guys," he half-wheezed, "You _have_ to come see this." Tears were streaming down his face as he doubled over, palms slamming into the table with much more force than necessary. He released another cry of laughter, shaking his head as he struggled to catch his breath.

Luke licked his lips and got up to leave, bidding Annabeth a polite goodbye and going on about how nice it was to meet her. The boy leaned heavily against him when he rose to full height, struggling to even stand. Piper looked on with mild interest and something else that closely resembled embarrassment.

Annabeth stared at the three of them, gripped the spine of her book just a little tighter, and pursed her lips.

_Maybe…_

Right before they could walk away, the boy's green eyes lit onto Annabeth and their gazes held. His eyes flashed red for a second too long for her to assume as a trick of the light, and she stumbled over her breath, oxygen halting in her throat. Her heart rate quickened, and as if he could hear it, the boy's lips pulled up into a grin. Then, a moment before he left her line of vision, his lips parted and imposing, elongated canines gleamed dangerously.

Piper, having gotten out of her seat much slower than her apparent friends, noticed Annabeth's pale face. "Hey." Her expression twisted with concern. She reached forward, then pulled away, as if thinking better of it. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Annabeth lied. "I'm fine. Just…"

"Wanna be alone?"

For some reason, she felt sheepish. "Yeah."

Piper smiled at that, not a fang in sight. "I get it," she shrugged. She tucked the front strands of her deep colored hair behind her pierced ear, and grabbed her styrofoam cup off the table. Then, with a polite nod, Piper gave Annabeth a final grin. "Welcome to Saturn Academy."

She was gone before Annabeth could respond.

**...**

It was the buzzing vibrations that awoke her.

Annabeth sat up from her position groggy and disturbed. Her neck ached as she felt around for her phone. Her eardrums were sore, no doubt a result of the steady stream of music that had slithered past the lobes even while she slept. A quick glance at the time told her that she had been out for nearly three hours. She glanced out the window, watching the rolling hills and shimmering small lakes that the train passed by.

Roughly four hours to go until she arrived at Saturn Academy. She tried not to think about how much she hated that.

Determined to distract herself, Annabeth finally regarded the messages that pillaged the screen. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she realized that they were all from Nancy, the most recent one demanding that she call her.

 _How could you not tell me you were leaving_ , most of the texts said.

Annabeth floundered in the well of guilt that bubbled within her. How could she answer that? Truth was, she hadn't told Nancy even when she had gotten three days to do so. It was an act of cowardice, in all manners of honesty, and she didn't want to have to face that.

She turned off her phone, unplugged her earbuds, and slipped the device into the back pocket of her ripped jeans. She would deal with Nancy later, once she was in the privacy of her dorm and possessed the bandwidth to acknowledge the sheer emotional implications that came with deserting her closest friend without so much as a goodbye.

Annabeth stood shakily and for the first time since boarding, turned around to head towards the back of the car. She needed to use the bathroom.

Just as before, all conversation slowly grew muted as the passengers noticed her presence. She wasn't the only one standing, not at all, but for reasons she did not know, she was the only one who was being paid any attention.

Annabeth ignored the fleeting glances and double takes as she ventured towards the bathroom. By mistake, she met the eyes of the East Asian girl from before. _D_ flashed a ruthless grin at her, her dark eyes scouring her form as if she were internally deciding how fast she could take her down in a fight.

The blonde looked away, thoroughly unnerved. It was obvious that this train car was inhabited solely by Saturn Academy students- that much was clear by the way their body language screamed familiarity despite the evident cliques. Annabeth wondered how she stuck out so much. Was it so apparent that she wasn't a _troubled_ , gifted delinquent like the rest?

She pushed out of the train car, trying not to shudder at the way the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She felt on edge around them, especially the group of students who lounged in the seats at the very back- the ones with clear skin like marble and the effortless grace that seemed to embody both Piper and Luke. Sure enough, those two were right in the thick of it, laughing at something that another girl said. Despite their unmistakable charm, the most primal part of her told her to _stay away._

 _They're going to this school for a reason,_ Annabeth reminded herself as she washed her hands at the sink. She stared at her reflection, unable to unravel the sour expression twisting her features. The bags beneath her grey eyes weighed heavy.

She felt the numerous pairs of eyes following her when she returned to her seat.

"They're just not used to you," a calm voice spoke up from across the table.

Annabeth jumped, for the first time noticing the girl dressed in all black that sat cross legged on the chair opposite of her. She recognized her instantly, from the black symbols covering her hands to her dark eyes tinged with green to her brown hair. In the girl's lap was the thick book that had been cradled in the aisle during boarding.

Annabeth fought to keep her dismay from showing. Was sleep the only way she was able to be alone? What a discouraging thought. "What are you talking about?"

The girl studied her with a deep look, not unlike the ones Luke and his brown-haired friend had given her, before smiling in a way that spoke of held knowledge. " _You_ ," she said placidly. "And my, my, my, aren't you just a little _enigma_." She cocked her head to the side, eyes roving over Annabeth's face.

"Excuse m-"

"-The novelty will wear off once you're sorted," the girl cut her off with a shrug. Her words were cryptic. "But I can't blame them for being intrigued. You're so…" her green eyes met her own and narrowed; her dark hair closely resembled smoke in that moment. Annabeth's throat closed up as her head began to pound. " _Close minded._ "

Annabeth's temples throbbed with pain and she grit her teeth, unable to tear her gaze away from the girl's. _What was going on?_ Her mind felt like it was being torn to ribbons, shreds of her conscious thought drifting around in a gradually-emptying dark space.

"Blackstone!" A voice from somewhere else in the car called out, and the girl's head jerked to see where it came from. The pain in Annabeth's skull vanished as soon as her attention was placed elsewhere.

The blonde leaned away at once. " _Leave me alone._ "

The girl, Blackstone, turned back to her, studied her once more, and laughed. The sound was sweet yet striking, like apple cider. "Oh, of course," she nodded along as if it was her idea. "I'd hate to make you uncomfortable."

 _Too late for that,_ Annabeth wanted to say. She forced herself not to.

Blackstone stood, the symbols on her hands seemingly dragging in whatever light it could find; a black hole in its own right. Her emerald green fingernails traced over the table top and she met Annabeth's eyes again. "Welcome to Saturn Academy, Annabeth." Her smile was unnerving. "I can't wait to see what's in store for you."

 _Weirdos,_ she told herself again as she huddled against the window and forced herself to go back to sleep _. Troubled freaks and weirdos._

It wasn't until just moments before slumber overtook her, that Annabeth realized she had never told Blackstone her name.

**...**

They pulled into Union Station in Utica, New York at 3 pm. By then, Annabeth was more than ready to get off the train, until she realized that she was to put up with these same students for the next nine months. That thought alone was enough to keep her from springing out of her seat and bolting towards the door.

The interior of the train station waiting room was beautiful, bathed in golden lights and gleaming wooden benches. The floors and columns, smoothened marble that shone with polish, reminded Annabeth of Luke's skin, of the brown-haired boy's teeth, of Piper's smile. It was all breathtaking in a detached way, as if reminding the one looking that something was just a little off.

She forced down her shiver.

After claiming their bags, the students were all herded outside. The afternoon sun hung in the sky, heat, and humidity beating against the beige-grey walls of Union Station. In the parking lot were a legion of charter buses, with several drivers carrying signs labeled _SATURN ACADEMY._

A woman with a megaphone exited one of the buses, dressed in a professional blouse and a pair of navy slacks. Her dark hair was pulled away into a low bun. She called for everyone to get into lines to load their bags into the buses, which would carry them the rest of the way to school. Afterward, she said, they had fifteen minutes to use the bathroom or buy a quick takeout lunch from the restaurant down the road (even though they'd have lunch when they got to school).

Annabeth's nerves, lit by wispy flames of discomfort and anxiety, were at an all-time high and she found that she needed to use the bathroom again. She joined the nearest line that had formed, hauling her two suitcases behind her. Around her, Saturn students joked and laughed. The noise rang in her ears and she swore she saw a flash of fire coming from the group of teenagers dressed in browns, golds, and reds, but by the time she looked over, it was gone. Annabeth felt their eyes even though they weren't staring at her as pointedly as her car-mates had done during the voyage. Soon enough, her luggage was loaded into one of the buses, and she headed back into the train station, looking for the bathrooms.

The line wasn't as long as she thought it would be- a relief that she didn't even know she was hoping for. Annabeth relieved herself as quickly as she could, flushed the toilet, and pushed out of the stall, only to nearly smack into Piper.

"Oh!" Her acquaintance jumped out of the way, lips pulling into an easy grin. "I'm so sorry," she said, making room for Annabeth to dash to the sinks. "I didn't see you there."

"It's not like you have laser vision," the blonde responded. She met Piper's eyes through the mirror reflection and tried for a smile. Piper was nice. There was no need to be short with her. "Don't worry about it." She began washing her hands.

Piper nodded but hung back. She had discarded her denim jacket, revealing a light grey t-shirt that somehow looked glamorous despite its simplicity and a pair of black denim shorts. She scrolled through her phone aimlessly.

Annabeth furrowed her eyebrows. "You don't have to wait for me," she said, reaching over to pump the soap.

Piper looked up, eyes bright, and grinned again. "You're right," she shrugged, slipping her phone into her back pocket. "But it was either wait for you or head back outside and listen to Drew pretend to be a bitch toward the younger sire-" She caught herself with a cough. "The younger students. Anyways, what bus are you on? I was thinking we could sit next to each other."

Before Annabeth could respond, the bathroom door swung open and two girls pushed in. Despite the fact that they hadn't been in the train car that housed Annabeth, Piper, and the others, it was clear they were Saturn students- the high quality of their clothing spoke enough truth of that. They greeted Piper warily for reasons unknown, but once their gazes fell on Annabeth, a tense silence overtook the room.

They studied her, just as every single one of the students prior had done, with piercing stares and curious looks. It was maddening. The blonde grit her teeth, ignored their rude stares as well as she could, and finished washing her hands. She dried her palms and fingers on a paper towel and pushed out of the bathroom, not even checking over her shoulder to see if Piper was following.

But she followed alright.

"Annabeth! Wait!" Piper called after her. It didn't take long for her to catch up. "I'm sorry about them, please, just wait!"

Her words were almost convincing, but the sheer annoyance that bubbled in Annabeth's chest was stronger; strong enough to keep her moving forward. Not that it mattered. Before she could blow through the exit doors of the train station, Piper caught her arm.

Annabeth stilled immediately, eyes widening as she tossed a look at the girl over her shoulder. Her grip was cold. Rather than fingers, it felt like someone was pressing a chilled metal rod into her forearm. The temperature was glacial and seemingly seeped into her skin, attacking the muscles and tendon and bone. Goosebumps rolled over her and a shiver inched down her back.

 _Run,_ her instincts seemed to scream. _Run!_

"You're warm," Piper said, as if confused. Her hazel eyes were lowered to Annabeth's arm, a small frown edging on her lips as she stared.

_What the hell?_

Annabeth had had enough. She wrenched her arm away from the girl's grip, an action that took far more effort than she would've guessed. Expression stony, heart racing, and nerves on fire, Annabeth Chase responded with carefully balanced words. "And you're cold."

Then she spun on her heel, pushed out the door, and headed towards the charter buses. Piper didn't follow this time, which Annabeth was grateful for. She made a beeline for bus twelve, and tried her best to ignore the stares she was continually getting.

 _Honestly,_ she wanted to cry out. _Didn't their moms ever tell them it's rude to stare?_ But then she remembered that they were delinquents, that they were en route to a reform school, and she realized that childhood teachings probably didn't mean much to a crowd like this.

"They're just curious," a familiar Southern drawl smoothed over the back of her neck. Annabeth looked over her shoulder at him. This close, she could really see his eyes, and she realized that he had flecks of deep blue and grey hugging the pupils.

"About what?" She asked, remembering Blackstone's words. Annabeth fought down another shiver and had half the mind to turn around and pretend Luke wasn't there. All she wanted right now was to be left alone. Space. Peace. Quiet.

"You," Luke continued in an airy tone. "They're curious about you. Maybe if you opened up a little…"

"Excuse me?" Annabeth's eyebrows lifted and she turned around fully. Through her peripherals, she could feel the attention given by the surrounding boarding students, but she really couldn't find it within herself to care. "Open up?" She repeated, staring Luke in the face. "The only ones who spoke to me were Piper, you, and that Blackstone girl. Everyone else just stared. But for some reason, _I'm_ the one who needs to open up?"

Luke stared down at her for a long moment, blue eyes piercing and almost rooting her to the spot. And then, like a switch, an evident sudden realization dawned on his face. His eyes widened before he leaned in slightly, dropping the volume of his words to a whisper. "You _really_ don't know… do you?"

_You don't know._

_You don't understand._

_Chill._

A lump lodged itself in Annabeth's throat, a tight knot that gripped her chest and punctured her lungs. Why was this even happening to her? All she had done was go to the wrong party, and now here she was, three states away from home, surrounded by law-breaking delinquents who leered at her at every turn. Her own father, who had promised her he was only one call away, had abandoned her and hadn't looked back. Her mother had shipped her off at the first opportunity. And for the second time in three months, Annabeth had been robbed of the chance to say goodbye to her younger brother. She withheld from making a face but leaned back. "Know what?"

Luke stared at her, his expression slowly shifting as if he could read the emotions plain on her face. Right when he looked like he was about to speak, there was a voice from behind Annabeth.

"Hey." It was the bus driver, who sported an impatient expression. "Are you gonna get on or not? We gotta get movin', kid."

Annabeth swallowed down her rapidly growing wave of tears and boarded the bus. She ignored how it quieted slightly when she got on, ignored Luke's presence behind her as she sank into an empty seat, ignored it all.

Between her father, her mother, her brothers, and now these _freaks_ \- none of them would get the satisfaction of seeing her cry. If there was one thing in this rotten situation she had control over, it was that.

And she would make sure that she saw it through to the end.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so what did you think? next chapter will be more focused on the actual academy, sorry if you were expecting that out of this one. but thank you again for reading if you made it this far! <3


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